Home Is Where The Heart Is
by freeasthebirds
Summary: What if everything becomes too much for Tim and he just leaves? Would anyone even notice? Would they even care? And even if someone from his family manages to track him down, would he even want to go back?


Home Is Where The Heart Is

"What do you want?"

Brusque. Direct. Straight to the point.

Tim was alike with Bruce in that regard. But for the first time, Bruce wished it wasn't that way; this wasn't how he wanted the conversation to start.

"Tim…we've been looking for you for months…we were all so worried…"

" _What do you_ _ **want?**_ " Tim repeated in a harsh tone.

And Bruce didn't know how to answer. Not because he didn't have an answer, but because there were so many. He wanted to shake Tim's shoulders and yell at him for vanishing from the face of the Earth without so much as a note telling them where he went. He wanted to gather Tim in his arms and hug him tightly, to convey how much he missed his son. But most of all, he wanted Tim to come back home, where he would be safe. Where Bruce could watch over him, and chase away all of his nightmares and demons.

"Come home."

"No."

"Tim… _please._ " Bruce placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "We all miss you. _I_ miss you."

Tim turned to face him for the first time since Bruce found him. And Bruce barely managed to hold back a gasp of shock, because…Tim. He looked exhausted, with dark rings under his eyes. And… _god_ …Tim was so _thin._ He was practically all skin and bones. And seeing all this made Bruce feel… _sad._ Sad to see his son reduced to this state. _Oh Tim, what have you been doing to yourself?_

"Why _would_ you?" Tim questioned, sounding like a lost child. "You don't _need_ me."

Bruce wanted to yell in frustration; he was so angry. But that wasn't what Tim needed now. He had always thought that Tim had grown out of this way of thinking, of thinking that he was only wanted as long as he was needed. But he should have known, that the damage by the Drakes were long-lasting. If Bruce didn't know that the hurt and pain they inflicted on Tim was unintentional, he would have punched them in the face when they were alive.

"Of course we need you, Tim. You're my son. You're family. And we all love you." Bruce paused. Tim was listening with a tired ear, but Bruce could see that it still wasn't enough to convince Tim to come home. He _could_ drag Tim back, kicking and screaming, and lock him up in the Cave. But what was the _use,_ when he could just escape and run away _again?_

Bruce continued, "We miss how you'd act like a zombie before you get your cup of coffee in the mornings. We miss how you'd skateboard in the Manor, even if Alfred disapproves of it. Alfred misses your sarcasm and witty retorts. And Dick misses having a brother that he could carry up to bed and that'd allow him to cuddle. Cass misses her sparring partner and someone to talk to about her favorite television programs. Even Damian misses having someone that is able to have 'intellectual' arguments with him. And your friends…the Titans…have been lingering around the Manor for weeks. They've been mostly hanging out in your room, going through your things, trying to ease the ache of your missing presence. We all have been feeling quite… _lost_ without you, Tim."

"And… _you?_ " Tim asked quietly.

"I…I miss how you'd turn every case we have into a competition of who will solve it first." Bruce closed his eyes, remembering all the times that he spent with Tim. And all the little things Tim did that he never appreciated until they were gone. "I miss how you'd try to steal my coffee and how you'd try to sneak up on me..."

"It never worked," Tim said with a faint smile. "You always knew I was there."

"It only _looked_ that way. In actuality, you did surprise me a fair number of times." Bruce smiled, "What I'm trying to say is, Tim, we _do_ want you around. Even if you don't do anything but sleep all day long, we just want to know that you're _there._ That you're _safe_ and _well._ "

Tim eyes looked distant again. "I don't know…"

"Tim, I know that we had… _conflicts_ …about the way you handled things." _About Boomerang._ Bruce added silently. "But I was wrong. I didn't understand… _understand_ that you needed to do it. That you never fully dealt with…with _it,_ because you lost so much, and held so much pain in your heart that you just… _blocked_ everything out." _Like me._

"Bruce…you don't-"

"No, please, let me finish." Bruce said, stopping Tim. "I didn't understand before, but I do _now._ So please, Tim, come back home. We can _work_ through this together, and repair our relationship."

"Bruce…this wasn't your fault. It was my decision to leave; you had nothing to do with it. And you were right. Lately, I have been feeling like I couldn't do anything right. I kept messing so many things up as Red Robin. And I felt like the suit was weighing down on me more than ever. I _never_ …wanted to be Red Robin. But for a time, it felt right. Everything was going right, until it didn't. And wearing the suit just felt _wrong._ I didn't feel like a hero. I didn't feel like _anything._ " Tim sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "So I thought I'd take a break, and hang up the cape until I felt confident in myself again. I tried to have a normal life and continue my education, y'know…at one of the local colleges. But…I just couldn't _concentrate_ …I couldn't study…couldn't understand _anything._ I was just barely passing every class, and eventually I couldn't take it anymore and dropped out of college entirely. And…that was the last straw for me. I failed at living a vigilante life and failed at living a normal, mundane life too. So I left."

"Tim, why didn't you tell us about any of this?" Bruce asked, frowning deeply.

Tim shrugged his shoulders helplessly. "Why _should_ I? I didn't want to trouble any of you with my problems. I mean, you guys had better things to do than listen to me complaining about my mundane problems."

"Tim. Tim, look at me." Bruce placed two fingers on Tim's cheek, forcing his son to meet his gaze. "I want you to listen very carefully. You can always tell us about _any_ problems you have. We would _always_ listen, and we would _always_ try to _help_ you to the best of our ability. If you don't feel comfortable talking about this with any of us, you can also talk it out with your friends. But the most important thing is, _no_ problem you have is _mundane._ I don't _care_ if you just want to _rant_ to me about the weather or the cat that you tripped over or the beetle crawling on your shirt, but you _come_ to us when you have a problem, when you need _help._ Is that clear?"

"It's not…"

" _Tim._ " That was his inner Batman surfacing.

Tim sighed again, "Yes, sir."

"Good. Now, let's go home."

A look of panic flashed across Tim's face. " _Home?_ Bruce, I don't think I'm _ready-_ "

"And you'll never _be_ if you keep running away." Bruce said sternly. "Look, we're not going to _force_ you to wear the suit if you don't want to. I want you to take your time to feel more comfortable and confident in yourself. You can even modify your suit again or even take on a different identity if you want to."

Tim ran a hand through his hair, frustration visible in his features. "I _know,_ but-"

"Tim, if I left you to it, would you _ever_ come back home?"

"Of course!" Tim paused and hesitated, "Well, maybe. Eventually?"

Bruce stared hard at his son. "Eventually as in a few months? Or a few _years?_ "

"…"

"Well?" Bruce prompted after a minute of silence.

"I don't know," Tim said at last. "I was just going to travel for a while before going back to Gotham."

"And what _have_ you been doing, Tim?" Bruce demanded, asking the question that had been on his mind ever since he found Tim.

"Just… _stuff._ " Tim said lamely. "Y'know…training and all that."

Bruce took hold of Tim's right wrist, and though he was expecting it, was still shocked by how thin it was. He lifted his son's wrist to eye level and said, "Tim, you are in no _state_ to train. Alfred would have a fit if he saw you now. And I'm sure the first thing on his list would be to fatten you up when we get back."

"Alfred…" Tim murmured, "Yeah, that sounds like good old Alfred."

Bruce watched as Tim closed his eyes and started pacing with a hand under his chin. A sure sign that he was deep in thought. Bruce never thought he'd miss watching Tim doing this. Thinking. Oblivious to the world around him. And his brain whirring at high speeds, processing thought after thought.

These past months have been especially hard for Bruce, having to live with the constant worry of whether Tim was dead or alive. And sometimes horrible scenarios would creep into his mind, images imprinted into his memory, of Tim being kidnapped and beaten up, of Tim being tortured, his screams echoing through a dark cavern without anybody to hear or save him, and of Tim dying alone, blood flowing out of his broken body like a river.

"You're _sure_ everyone won't mind if I came _back?_ Just…out of the blue?" Tim finally spoke.

Bruce released an exasperated sigh. Tim just didn't get it, no matter how many times he told him. "Of course they won't mind. They might be a _little_ upset with you for leaving, but most of all they'd be delighted to have you back."

Despite Bruce's assurance, Tim still looked unsure. "Well then, I suppose I could go back…just for a little while…"

Bruce was not entirely satisfied with Tim's answer, but he supposed that'd have to do for now. Hopefully, seeing his family again for the first time in months would help to persuade Tim to stay permanently this time.

"So, how are we going to go back to Gotham?" Tim queried.

"The same way I got here," Bruce answered, walking towards the stairwell. "With the Batplane."

"Oh, cool." Tim started to follow Bruce, but halted after a few steps. "Bruce…?"

Bruce stopped too, looking back at his son. "Yes?"

"I…" Tim cut himself off midsentence and lunged at his adoptive father, wrapping his arms around Bruce's torso in a tight hug. "… _missed_ _you._ "

Bruce returned the hug, with one hand holding Tim's thin shoulders and another wrapped around his son's waist.

"Me too. _Me too._ " Bruce whispered, resting his chin on Tim's head with his eyes closed.

This was how it was supposed to be. Father and son. It didn't matter that they were not blood related, because the love they had for one another was stronger than any blood ties.

It felt like an eternity had passed when the two of them finally released each other. And Bruce, for the first time in months, felt like a weight has been lifted off his back.

He smiled, "C'mon, we don't want to keep everyone waiting."

Tim's eyes, which had been dark and dull ever since he left home, lit up, his bright blue eyes shining like the skies after a storm. "Can I pilot the Batplane?"

Bruce snorted in amusement, he almost forgot about Tim's love for high-speed vehicles. "No."

"Please?" Tim pleaded.

"It's too dangerous." Bruce replied, leading Tim down the stairs.

Tim looked insulted. "Bruce. I'm _seventeen._ I am _perfectly_ capable of handling the Batplane."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Oh, _fine._ I'll let you fly the plane when we reach open sea."

"Open s-? Hey, I can-"

"You look exhausted," Bruce interrupted. "I'll pilot the plane for the first hour while you _rest._ After that you can take over the rest of the flight."

"And you _promise_ to wake me up and not let me sleep all the way to Gotham like _last_ time?" Tim demanded.

"Yes, yes, I promise." Bruce laughed, recalling that Tim had refused to speak to him for a _week_ when he woke up. Though in Bruce's defense, his action was justified as Tim was _way_ too young to fly the Batplane back then.

"Okay then, race you there!" Tim called, dashing down the stairs.

"Hey, wait a minute! You got a head start! And you don't even know where I left the Batplane!" Bruce shouted after Tim.

Bruce caught up with Tim quickly, not that it was much a chore, as Tim was slow in his weakened state. But despite that, Bruce was happy with how Tim cheered up just at the prospect of being able to fly the Batplane. Maybe when they get back to Gotham, he should let Tim drive the Batmobile too. His other children might get jealous…but oh, what the heck, _let_ them. After all, he just got Tim _back_ and he was going to make sure it _stayed_ that way.


End file.
